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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23762701">I spoke the words but never gave a thought to what they all could mean</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing'>KeepGoing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aiding and Abetting, Domestic bitches in mexico, Ian goes with Mickey to Mexico, Ian is wanted by the police, Ian with black hair, M/M, Mickey still runs drugs, Mickey with blonde hair, On the Run, POV Alternating, Season 8 Rewrite, disguises, mexico/chicago, season 7 finale rewrite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:47:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23762701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after Ian escapes into Mexico with Mickey, the feds are hot on their trail forcing Mickey to make a decision for the both of them that could potentially rip apart everything between them that was just finally sewn back together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. What they call love is a risk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my ending of Season 7/ Season 8 rewrite. I always wanted to write a fic of what if Ian went to Mexico with Mickey. What would it be like for the rest of the family back in Chicago? What if the cops figured it out and went looking for Ian too?</p>
<p>This will be a chapter fic with hopefully a chapter a week, maybe more. I hope you enjoy it. </p>
<p>Title taken from the song 'Play crack the sky' by Brand New. </p>
<p>COMMENTS ARE LOVE.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>
    <b>We sent out the SOS call<br/>It was a quarter past 4 in the morning</b>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Chicago: 5 days after Mickey escapes</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pounding on the front door awakens Lip with a groan and a long annoyed sigh. The couch is lumpy under him, but he was thoroughly enjoying the much needed sleep. The pounding starts again and he pushes himself off the cushions by his hands, his arms stretched out in front of him and his legs clumsily falling out from underneath him and his shoed feet slipping onto the dirty carpet. There's yet another pound and he grits his teeth together.</p>
<p>“Fucking A, I’m coming. Jesus Christ.” Lip pulls open the door with a little too much force and ends up stumbling. Through blurry vision he sees the same cop from the other night on his doorstep. “Yeah?” He asks, one eye open.</p>
<p>“Is Ian Gallagher here?”</p>
<p>“Uh,” Lip rubs the back of his head looking back inside the house. When was the last time he saw Ian? “No, I don't think he's here right now?” He looks back at the cop, eyes a little more open now. “What's this about?”</p>
<p>“We really need Mr. Gallagher to come down to the station and answer some questions.”</p>
<p>“Look man, my brother already told you he hasn't seen Mickey. It's been years.” </p>
<p>The cop nods. “Well, either he's lying to you or the prison records are lyin’ because Mr. Gallagher saw Mr. Milkovich in prison a total of 8 times since his incarceration.”</p>
<p>Lip lets his mind wander for a second. Could Ian have without any of them knowing? Who the fuck knows with that kid anymore. Lip shrugs. “Say that’s true, it doesn’t mean my brother would help Mickey break out of fucking prison.”</p>
<p>“We don't think Mr. Gallagher helped him break out.”</p>
<p>“Then let me ask again, officer, what is this about then?”</p>
<p>The cop sighs. “We think your brother is with Mr. Milkovich. We think they stole a car and drove it across the Mexican border. We think your brother is on the run with a convicted attempted murderer escapee.”</p>
<p>Lip feels dizzy. No. No fucking way. Ian wouldn't…</p>
<p>When was the last time he saw Ian? He had talked to him the other day. Said he was working a double.</p>
<p>“Did you try his work? Or his boyfriend? Trevor...I don't know. Something.” Fuck, what is Trevors last name?</p>
<p>“I’ve been to Mr. Gallaghers job. He hasn't been there since the day after Mr. Milkovich broke out. And his boyfriend, Trevor Barclay, hasn't heard from him since the night we were here last.” He raises an eyebrow at Lip. “So I’m gonna ask one more time. Do you know where Mr. Gallagher is?”</p>
<p>“Listen, my brother is an EMT. He has a level head. There is no way in hell he’d escape to Mexico with Mickey fucking Milkovich.” Lip’s voice waivers over Mickey's name. He wouldn't. Would he?</p>
<p>“Mmm.” The cop nods. “Border patrol picked up Mr. Milkovich’s cellmate, Damon Cardeno. He sang a beautiful tune about the escape, grand theft auto and the red haired ‘puta’ they were with before Mr. Milkovich and said a red haired man left him in a parking lot 50 miles from the border.”</p>
<p>“Officer, do you know how many red haired people there are in the world? That could be anyone Mickey picked up along the way. Trust me, those Milkovich’s get around.” Lip smirks at him. He doesn't look amused. </p>
<p>“If you hear from Mr. Gallagher tell him he has 24 hours to come into the precinct or we are issuing a warrant out for his arrest. Aiding and abetting a fugitive is a federal offense in this case. Make sure you remind him of that. Have a good day.” Lip watches as the cop struts back to his undercover cop car and flips the lights a few times just for good measure. He closes the door and leans his forehead against it. </p>
<p>“Fuck, Ian. What the fuck did you do?”</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <b>When the storm broke our second anchor line<br/>Four months at sea 4 months of calm seas to be pounded</b>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Ciudad Acuna: 8 days after Mickey escapes</b>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Ian, what the fuck man? The fucking cops were just here. Ian please do not tell me your with fucking Mickey. Please tell me that you didn’t fucking just up and leave your job and your family and cross the fucking Mexican border with Mickey fucking Milkovich. Ian...fuck...Ian they are gonna issue a warrant out for your arrest if you don’t go into the precinct. Please tell me you’re not this stupid. I...do you at least have your meds? Christ, I don't even know if you've taken your meds lately. If this is an episode….Ian...god dammit Ian, please just call me. You better be dead in a fucking ditch somewhere.”</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ian lays the phone down on his lap and looks out into the ocean from the balcony of the bar. He takes the rag he's holding and twists it in his hands a few times. Deep breaths. Take deep breaths. He can hear the yelling and clanking of bottles behind him in the bar and there are men and women all around him as he sits for his 5 minute break. Most of them look at him with disdain, but the old guy and his even older wife who has owned this bar since they were his age said he’d be a ‘good look’ for the bar for when the American’s came in. </p>
<p>To them, he’s Sam Brennan. At least that's what his fake ID and passport say. He didn't pick it. Neither did Mickey. Or should he say Michael Caratello. At least Mickey got to pick something close to his name. He can still call him Mickey here. </p>
<p>He’d only been bussing at the bar for 2 days. The first few days he and Mickey had spent fucking and eating and figuring out the plan. It had been euphoric making it over that border. They barely made it to a motel before he was inside Mickey with adrenaline and mania. Ian takes a deep breath. </p>
<p>“Ay!”</p>
<p>Ian smiles to himself and stands up, taking his rag and phone with him. He turns to see Mickey, making his way through the bustle of people. “There you are.” </p>
<p>Ian just keeps smiling. Mickey eyes the phone in his hand. “Thought I told you to get rid of that fucking thing.”</p>
<p>“Gonna have to now. Warrant for my arrest.” Ian wiggles the phone in Mickey’s face and he snatches it, white knuckling it in his fist. </p>
<p>“Phillip?”</p>
<p>Ian nods. “They know what I did.”</p>
<p>Mickey chews on his bottom lip. “Regrets?”</p>
<p>“Nah.” Ian gives him a smile. “I’m in this now, right? No turning back? Over the finish line?”</p>
<p>“Cut the shit, Firecrotch. We don’t lie to each other, right? Not anymore? Remember?”</p>
<p>Ian does remember. It was the first thing they agreed to that first night in Mexico in that shitty hotel room. They would always be honest with each other. About everything. How they felt. What they were doing for money. If they saw anything suspicious. Mickey said it was all they had there in Mexico. The truth. And each other. </p>
<p>“Just feel bad I’m putting them through this. I don't regret leaving or being here with you.” And that was the truth. He smiles a little at Mickey’s now bleach blonde hair tousled and wisping in the wind off the ocean. God, it makes his eyes even bluer if that’s possible.</p>
<p>“Okay. Good.” Mickey sighs and looks down at the phone in his hand. “I wish you could call them man, but it's just too risky, you know. I know you're giving up a lot and I’m sorry for that…”</p>
<p>“Hey, no.” Ian grabs the hand the phone is in and tries to get his fingers in Mickey's as much as he can. “Don't be sorry. I chose this. I knew the risk. I knew the consequences. It's worth it, okay?” Mickey won't look at him. “OKAY?” Ian finally gets Mickey’s eyes on his. The man nods. </p>
<p>“Okay.” Mickey clears his throat, the emotions too much for him, as usual, and pockets Ian’s phone. “Uh, I found a way to get your meds. I gotta do some jobs for this one local run a few times a week, but it's easy shit. Makes the Southside look like El Chapo ran it, you know?”</p>
<p>Ian smirks. “I trust you.”</p>
<p>Mickey smiles. “Good.” He reaches out to run his hand through Ian’s now black hair. “I’m kinda diggin the dark now.”</p>
<p>“That so?”</p>
<p>Mickey licks his lips. “How long before you're off?”</p>
<p>“Few more hours.”</p>
<p>“Kay. I got a few more loose ends to tie up with this business venture I’m gonna find myself in. Meet you back at the room tonight?’ Mickey is already walking away but pointing at him and for some reason it makes Ian feel like they are the only two people in the world.</p>
<p>“Yeah, see you.” He mouths <i>‘love you’</i> to him and he can see the blush form across Mickey’s cheek. Mickey holds up 2 fingers. His signature sign for <i>‘me too.’</i> Ian just smiles brighter.</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <b>What they call love is a risk</b>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Chicago: 13 days after Mickey’s escape</b>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“If you have any information on the whereabouts of Mikhalio Aleksandr Milkovich or Ian Clayton Gallagher please contact the Chicago police department immediately. These two men are considered armed and extremely dangerous…”</i>
</p>
<p>“Are they fucking kidding me?” Fiona yells at the TV. “Ian? Dangerous?”</p>
<p>“Fi, if he's manic, he could be. He stole a fucking baby last time.” Lip looks up at her from his spot on the couch.</p>
<p>“No, this is bullshit.” She's pacing and Lip wants to reassure his sister that Ian isn't this stupid. That this is all a misunderstanding. But he knows it's not. Ian ran. With Mickey. And Fiona knows it too. She stops dead in one of her paces and turns to look at him, tears in her eyes. “He was trying to tell me. The last night he was here. The last night I saw him. He was going off about Jimmy Steve and if I felt like I should have gone off with him. And I told him Lip, I told him Mickey was a bad idea and why didn’t I realize what he was trying to tell me?”</p>
<p>“Fi, you can't blame yourself. None of us saw this ok? But...fuck I hate to say this, I can’t even believe I’m fucking saying this, but it’s Mickey. He’ll take care of Ian. In his own fucked up way, he loves our brother. He won't let anything bad happen to him.”</p>
<p>Fiona’s eyes widen. “Nothing bad happen to him? The fucking FBI is looking for him, Lip! He took Ian across the Mexican border to run with him after escaping prison! He tried to murder someone!”</p>
<p>“Yeah and it's not like we never did stupid shit when we loved someone, huh? I’m not saying Mickey’s husband material here, but he's better than most of the people anyone else in this family has dated. Fuck, Jimmy Steve was a criminal too!”</p>
<p>“Oh, fuck you Lip.”</p>
<p>“I’m just saying. Yeah, this is bad. Really fucking bad. But if Ian is having a manic episode, Mickey is not that self centered to let him do anything nuts. He will ship his ass back up here. Probably in toe just to get himself locked up again because he doesn't want to see Ian hurt. And if Ian isn't manic, if he decided this with a clear mind, then…” Lip shrugs. “Then he made his own bed. He's an adult, Fi. Let him have the consequences like one.”</p>
<p>“I was supposed to take care of you all.” Fiona wipes her nose on the back of her hand. </p>
<p>“I know. But sooner or later you gotta learn to let go.”</p>
<p>She nods and looks back at the TV to Ian’s face plastered on it like some kind of criminal. “If they catch him he’s looking at up to 15 years.”</p>
<p>“Probably. But maybe they will be smart.” Lip smirks at his big sister.</p>
<p>“Oh fuck off, when has any Gallagher ever been smart? Or a fucking Milkovich?”</p>
<p>They huff out a laugh together and stare solemnly at the TV. </p>
<p>Their brother was in deep shit trouble.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. But the wrong words will strand you...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments are LOVE. Thank you so much for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i><b>Cause you will always get hit out of nowhere by some wave and end up on your own</b></i> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Mexico: 2 months after Mickey escapes</b> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ian rubs his face against the stiff fabric of the pillowcase and blinks away the aggressive sunlight coming in through the broken window of their motel room. He’s warm, and not just because its Mexico in summertime. He winks one eye open and is assaulted by white blonde hair. If he was being honest with himself, those first few weeks waking up in the mornings gave him mini panic attacks because he had been so used to seeing dark hair on the pillow next to him; Mickey all that time, then Trevor; so the blonde made him nervous like he didn't know where he was or who he had ended up with. It took him back to the bad days of the club when he couldn't remember the night before. But he had finally gotten used to the blonde and to be honest as much as he loved Mickey’s jet-black strands, the blonde was sexy as fuck. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He reaches his hand out from underneath his own head and runs his fingers through the blonde strands. It's getting so long. The body next to him stirs and rolls over, blue opening slowly. And then he smiles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mickey’s smile is blinding. Not that half lop sided smirk he used to give when he was beating the shit out of someone or making some shit talking remark. This smile. The one he gives Ian. The one that is only for Ian.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey,” Ian whispers and presses his lips to Mickey’s forehead. A sigh escapes his boyfriend's lips and then there are fingers on his cheek pulling their mouths together. Its soft, slow...perfect. Here in this room for the few moments in the morning before the day begins its like everything else fades away. They aren't Sam and Michael. They aren't on the run from the feds. It's just Ian and Mickey. And Ian is so in love he almost can't stand it most days.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mickey made sure Ian could get his meds down here. He swears the runs he's doing are nothing; that the shit in southside was way more dangerous; and Ian wants to believe him. But sometimes when Mickey comes through the door hours later than he's supposed to with a look of worn and terror all over his face, it makes Ian...pause. Drug dealers in Mexico are a dime a dozen. Ian knows that. Shit, 12-year old's sell drugs a block from their motel. But Mickey always finds a way to get involved the with the lowest of the low; the scariest motherfuckers around. Ian doesn't know if it's the thrill, the money. Or the voice in the back of his boyfriend's head that's always whispering to him that he will never be good enough and this is all he will ever be and all he will ever deserve.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And even now; with Ian lying next to him; having given up his freedom, his family, his job, fuck even his sanity, Mickey still thinks it's all he deserves. And it rips Ian's heart apart.  Because Mickey deserves this. He deserves love and kindness. And peace.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ian pulls back, brushing long strands of blonde hair off sun kissed skin. Mickeys eyes slide shut with a soft moan. This once south side thug is so gentle. And it's a shame no one but Ian knows this. Or maybe it's not. Because Ian is the only one who gets this side of Mickey. It's all his.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are so beautiful.” Ian whispers. Mickey winces and it shatters the bones in Ian's chest. “You are. Fuck, look at you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mickey leans his head forward and buries his face in Ian’s neck. He’s always hiding. Sometimes it makes Ian feel like he's 15 again. But he has to break himself out of that mind frame because Mickey isn't that same person Ian met all those years ago. They have come so far from the dugouts and the freezer in the Kash and Grab. But Mickey will always feel like he's not enough.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love you.” Ian whispers. Mickey kisses his neck. “I love you, Mickey.” A lick up his jugular. “I fucking want you. I need you. I love you. You're everything.” A whimper and a mark being left on Ian’s skin. “Please tell me you believe me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mickeys body shakes. He nods against Ian’s neck.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tell me you believe me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mickey’s body shudders again and he pulls back. Ian pretends he doesn't see the wetness in his eyes.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love you.” Mickey whispers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>
    <b>The hole in the hull defied the crews attempts to bail us out </b>
  </i>
</p>
<p><i><b>And flooded the engines and radio and half buried bow</b></i> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Chicago: 3 months after Mickey’s escape</b> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You sure this is a good idea?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lip looks up from his cereal into his sisters worried eyes. “You got any better ideas?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought we were letting Ian do what he wants? I thought we were letting him make his own bed?” Fiona quirks her eyebrow at him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah? How's that working for us? Besides what's the harm?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fiona's eyes widen. "Lip it's a-" A loud knock at the back door interrupts her foreshadowing lecture. Lip smirks and slides his chair out from the table.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It'll be fine, Fi." He opens the door and a wave of memories washes over him so suddenly it almost makes him stumble backwards.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Phillip Gallagher. I live and breathe. So, what the fuck has my idiot brother and his gay lover gotten themselves into this time?" Mandy sounds the same but looks so different. With blonde hair swept up in a bun and form fitting jeans that look expensive and a fitted t-shirt that isn't dirty.  Lip steps back and extends his hand to invite her into the kitchen. She walks in with her old level of sass but a new sophistication. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mandy drops her expensive purse on the 20-year-old broken kitchen table and turns and smiles at Fiona. "Have you heard from him yet?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lip hands her a postcard from the counter. She turns it over in her fingers.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>Eternities ahead, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>but miles behind, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>we collaborated together </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>to find places to hide. </i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>We started out young, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>hide and go seek. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Hiding, but laughing, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>so young and naive. </i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>Then as we aged, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>we hid from our thoughts, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>we hid from our feelings, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>and the darkness they brought. </i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>But as the years passed, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>we kept on trying. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We began to find acceptance </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>in the love we were denying. </i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>We learned to be happy, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>we learned to be wise. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We discovered ourselves, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>and rekindled our light. </i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>So, as we push forward </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>we'll continue to fight, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>to show all the others, </i>
</p>
<p><i>there's no need to hide</i> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wow, that's some deep shit." She lays it back down on the counter and sits at the table, shuffling through the newspaper.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's all you have to say?" Fiona asks arms flailing in frustration. Lip touches her sisters' shoulder.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well, it's very romantic in that 'the cops are looking for us' kinda way but that's just the way these assholes have always been, huh? Making retarded decisions, getting their asses in trouble all in the name of love." She makes a gagging motion and Lip snickers.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You came all the way from Florida for that? To make snarky remarks? You were supposed to help us find him!" Fiona crosses her arms and glares daggers at the younger Milkovich.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"How am I supposed to do that? You want me to drive down to Mexico and start calling their name out on the street?" Mandy scoffs.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Fucking USELESS. God damn Milkovich's." Fiona's rattle of obscenities continues as she stomps up the stairs. Lip watches her go and turns back to Mandy; resting his hands on the back of the chair in front of him.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So why did you come then?" Lip asks. She smiles and crosses her leg, her sandal dangling off the tips of her pedicured toes.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Would it be selfish to say because I wanted to see how you were?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We could have done that over the phone." God, she looks so good. It takes everything Lip has not to… </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"True. But then you couldn't see how good I look." She stands, smoothing her hands over her jeaned thighs.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I do miss the pink." Lip admits.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well, it is blonde. I can dye it any color I want." Mandy leans in a little too much in his personal space. "What do you say? Wanna dye my hair for me?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>All that Lip remembers after that is the way her tongue tastes.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>
    <b>It steers the whole ships sends your words past your lips </b>
  </i>
</p>
<p><i><b>Or keeps them safe behind your teeth</b></i> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Mexico: 5 months after Mickeys escape</b> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Fuck." Mickey wraps his legs tighter around Ian’s waist and grabs the long black strands on the back of his head. There are just moans being passed between pressed together lips as Ian’s cock stretches his hole. He feels so full and Mickey wonders if anything would ever feel this good again. Just them wrapped up in one another with only the warm breeze coming in through their small motel window. Ian's whispers that only Mickey can hear. The sound of skin on skin and feeling of Ian’s heartbeat against his chest.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mickey knows this won't last. They are on borrowed time. He finds himself looking at Ian, staring even, more than he ever has. Taking in the new freckles from the sun. How no matter how dark they dye his hair, there's still red in it when the sunlight hits it just right. Mickey isn't sure how someone so strong, so much of a man with so much power can be so fucking beautiful.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Mick," Ian moans and he knows he's close but Mickey doesn't want this to be over yet. He needs it to last because he knows it's all they have. The end is near for them, for the bubble of adventure they had found themselves in. He grabs Ian by the shoulders and roughly rolls them over so he's seated on top of his lover, knees barricading his ribs.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ian looks up at him, eyes dark and smile soft and he rubs his hands up Mickeys stomach and chest, pausing for just a moment to pay special attention to his nipples that rewards him with a soft moan from Mickey. "You gonna ride me, Mick?"  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mickey can only nod and lift forward until he feels Ian’s cock spearing at his already used hole. He slides back onto Ian’s waiting dick and lets out a satisfied sigh at the full feeling. Ian grips his hips and thrusts up into Mickey’s pliant body; matching moans escaping both their throats. After that it's just heat and sweat. Curses and praise. Fingertips and bruises. There's not a lot left that Mickey hasn't shown Ian. He’s seen his past. His anger. His fear. His love. His hate. His forgiveness. He’s shown Ian everything and Ian’s taken it all. The only thing he hasn't gotten to show him is a future. Because Mickey isn't sure they have one anymore.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You're a million miles away," Ian whispers up at him. Mickey closes his eyes and just grinds down harder on dick. "No, no. Don't do that. Where are you?"  Mickeys blowing it. He’s ruining this. This right here. The only thing they've ever done right together. The only thing that was never complicated. The only way he knew how to communicate with the man under him. But Mickey’s so wrapped up the fear right now; the fear of losing this. The fear that this was all a mirage and soon the lies will come to light and there will be nothing left.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, all Mickey can do is lean down and kiss him, pouring everything he has left into it. To prove to Ian, he's here. He’s always been here. He always will even if fate, or time, or cops or death tear them apart. He breathes against his mouth. He holds his face in his hands. And he gives him the one promise Mickey will never break.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I love you, Ian." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>
    <b>But the wrong words will strand you </b>
  </i>
</p>
<p><i><b>Come off course while you sleep</b></i> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Chicago: 6 months after Mickeys escape</b> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ian called." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sounds of chewing, cutlery against ceramic, and low chatter stop abruptly. Everyone is looking at Liam. Staring.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What?" Fiona asks.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ian called. He said he loves us, he's happy and to stop worrying." Liam states matter of factly.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"When...when did he call?" Lip asks. Mandy grabs his knee under the table.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"This morning." Liam shovels more peas into his mouth like what he just said hasn't turned the world out of orbit.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fiona, Mandy, Lip and Debbie all exchange looks. What's to say? Sooner or later they all knew they had to let this go. That they had to let Ian go. He was safe. Happy. That's all that really matters, right? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Okay." Fiona says forcing a smile. "Okay." </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>
    <b>Sweep your boat out to sea or dashed to bits on the reefs </b>
  </i>
</p>
<p><i><b>The vessel groans the ocean pressures its frame</b></i> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Mexico: 6 months after Mickeys escape</b> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If there was one thing Mickey’s always prided himself on it was his word. And he had made 2 promises to Ian when they got into Mexico. One, he would get him his meds. And two, he would never lie to him. They would never lie to each other. And in a matter of months, he's broken his word on both.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stares at the open gash across his cheek that definitely needs stitches and the forming black eye, swollen and taunting his defeated expression in the broken mirror of his dirty motel bathroom. He had fucked up. Big time. He had lied to Ian when he said the runs he was going on were nothing. They aren't nothing. They are a part of something bigger he didn't want to recognize because Mickey was just trying to keep the first promise, he had made all the while breaking the second. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They had made an example of him but mickey knew the punishment wasn't over. He was cocky, he knew it going in, thinking he was so smart but the truth was his Spanish still wasn't that great and Mickey thought he had gotten the grams right...no this wasn't over. This was bad, and he didn't mean just his broken ribs.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had fucked up with the wrong people and they weren't going to just let this go. They’d be keeping tabs on him now, deeper than before. He had been able to keep Ian at a safe distance for a while; they didn't give a shit about 2 American's as long as the drugs got where they were supposed to go and the money got collected. They knew he needed the meds for someone but they didn't seem to care as long as he did the runs and kept his head down. But he knew there was no way he was getting the meds now and they were gonna start digging which meant Ian wasn't safe. Neither of them are safe now… </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He should have never asked Ian to come with him. What kind of selfish prick takes someone away from their home, their job, their family, fuck, their sanity? But it was Ian and he's all Mickey has ever known, ever wanted, before he even realized he wanted anyone. Being with Ian again is what kept him going in prison, that was one thing that stayed the truth. Everything else snowballed into lies just to keep that one truth real. But he couldn't keep Ian safe anymore. Why did he think he could? He knew the feds were out there looking for him too. It was just a matter of time before the motel door got kicked down by some agent with cuffs or a Mexican with a gun and they both end up with 2 in the temple.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mickey had fucked it up for them and he had to do something, anything, fast, to keep Ian safe. The meds he has won't last long and then the spiral will begin and soon there will be nothing he can do to keep Ian safe. Especially from himself. Mickey knows this part. These guys he's working for they won't think twice about 2 American's; one that just fucked up a deal that that had been in the works for weeks. No, this beating wasn't the end. Milkovich or not, Mickey was in way over his head. He can admit that now. There was no coming back from this.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He limps with his swollen knee and shuffles onto the unmade bed where he had been fucked just hours ago. His body bent and broken in the best of ways. Unlike now.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They could run, somewhere else, but Mickey knew there was no running from these kinds of people. Another lie he had told himself and Ian in the beginning. Ian didn't belong here. This isn't the life he deserved. And these past weeks every time he’d tell Mickey how much he loved him; bile would form in Mickey’s throat; the truth trying so hard to spew out. He wanted to tell Ian how scared he was for the first time since that day in his living room with a Russian hooker on top of him. It was all about keeping Ian safe then, just like it is now. He needs to protect him. It's all Mickey knows. Ian is all he knows now. The scent of his skin from sweat. The way Ian rubs his feet together when he's first waking up in the morning. How his mouth tastes of stale cigarettes and tequila from the night before. How could he lose that again? But how can he keep it? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mickey hears the key in the door and he knows Ian will see him and fly off the handle. Demand answers and Mickey will have to come up with more lies to keep his one truth. That he would protect Ian, he will, no matter what. Mickey’s life was nothing, he didn't matter, but Ian deserves more. And that was worth anything. No matter the cost. Even his own life.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mickey had a decision to make. One Ian couldn't know about. One more lie to add to the pile.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>
    <b>Off the port I see the lighthouse through the sleet and the rain </b>
  </i>
</p>
<p><i><b>And I wished for one more day to give my love and repay debts</b></i> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Chicago: 9 months after Mickeys escape</b> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lip rests his hand on Mandy's stomach and rubs it gently. She stirs and murmurs in her sleep next to him. Her eyes flutter open and she gives her boyfriend a warm smile. "Morning." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He kisses her gently and rests his forehead against her cheek. </p>
<p>"You ok?" She touches the back of his head where his hair is getting too long. She feels him nod against her. "Listen, we don't have to do this. This wasn't supposed to happen. You can back out. I can go down to the clinic-""No." He interrupts. "No...I... I want to keep it." He pulls back searching her eyes. "Do you?" </p>
<p>Her eyes glaze over with something that Lip has never truly seen in the eyes of a woman staring back at him. Love. She nods ever so gently. And all he can do is smile.  </p>
<p>He laughs, pulling her against him, playing with the strands of purple in her hair. He breathes her in, all that she is. Strong. A survivor. Broken. Beautiful. And he loves her. There's a question on his lips against her ear but the bedroom door is flung open before it can escape them.  </p>
<p>They pull apart abruptly to find a disheveled Fiona practically hyperventilating in the doorway.  </p>
<p>"They got him. The feds got Ian and Mickey."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. We won't have to fight for long this is the end...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>But the morning finds our bodies washed up thirty miles west<br/>They say that the captain stays fast with the ship through still and storm<br/>But this ain't the Dakota and the water is cold<br/>We won't have to fight for long this is the end</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Its almost done! And this is the longest chapter yet. The ending of this may take me a bit longer to post because I want to do it perfectly with all the dreams I've had in my head for the different things we could have gotten in season 10. Don't get me wrong, I loved season 10, but there's some things I would have added ;)</p>
<p>As always comments are love.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span>But the morning finds our bodies washed up thirty miles west</span>
    </em>
  </b>
  <span> <br/></span>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span>They say that the captain stays fast with the ship through still and storm</span>
    </em>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span>Mexico: 8 ½ months after Mickey’s escape:</span>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian can't concentrate today. He’s been wiping down the same table for almost 10 minutes. He can't stop thinking about what happened with Mickey. He knows he's lying. He knows he just didn’t get into a ‘fight’ with a customer. He’s never seen a beating on Mickey that bad. Not since...Terry. That day. He quickly shakes his head out of the memory. No, he can't get trapped in his own mind today. He has to figure what the fuck was going on with Mickey. He’s been distant...and when they are together, he’s a million miles away. It started a few months ago and Ian had been in such a domestic bubble to really see it. But Ian sees it now. And something is definitely wrong. But he can't quite figure out what it is.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey, who is horny just as much as Ian is, which is pretty much every minute of every day, hasn’t been in the mood to have sex for over a month now. And he's gone almost all hours of the day and night. He will get a text on his phone at 2am and just...leave. No explanation. No goodbye. Just throws the sheet off his body, which used to sleep naked next to Ian every night, and just goes. Ian is terrified to ask him what's going on. His mind has gone to a thousand different scenarios. Cheating, murder, taking drugs. But the longer he obsesses, the more the paranoia kicks in and he feels himself spiraling. It's not good and it seems like Mickey doesn’t even seem to notice. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sees a mess of blonde hair and his heart begins to race. Mickey is making his way toward him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” He’s nervous. Ian can tell. He just doesn’t understand why.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” It's all Ian can think to say. He’s too scared to say anything else. It's all they’ve pretty much said to each other for a while now. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, </span>
  <span>wanna</span>
  <span> go out tonight?” Mickey rubs his thumb across his bottom lip. His tell. His nervous tick. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, uh. Yeah, I guess. Sure. What do you </span>
  <span>wanna</span>
  <span> do?” Ian eyes him, trying too hard to find anything that shows him the man he fell in love with. The man he came here with.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, I don’t know. Drink until we can't stand? Get some food?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck?” Ian asks. He’s trying to sound flirty. It doesn’t work. It just comes out in a pleading tone.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey’s eyes harden then he winces. “I know I haven't been around. I know...I've been...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Distant? Cold?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey nods. “I’m sorry man. These guys...they just been working me hard. And we need money and I...” Ian's heart breaks. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you cheating on me?” Ian blurts out. He can't help it. It literally comes from his gut and spews out through his mouth. He can't stop it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I... what the fuck? Are you fucking serious right now?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian just stares at his boyfriend. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what, Gallagher? Fuck you.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey is gone before he can say anything else. But the saddest thing is Ian still isn't sure if that was a confession or not.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span>But this </span>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span>ain't</span>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span> the Dakota and the water is cold</span>
    </em>
  </b>
  <span> <br/></span>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span>We won't have to fight for long this is the end</span>
    </em>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span>Mexico: 9 months after Mickey’s escape</span>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey stands outside the motel room door for a while. He even sits; leaning his head against the door, listening to Ian’s even breathing through the thin wood. He knows what he's been doing. He knows he's been distant. But he's just trying to make it easier on them...on him...when this all ends. Because its coming to an end. Any day now.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took one phone call. And the ball started rolling. He closes his eyes and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. </span>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Drug enforcement administration.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Uh, my name is Mickey </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Milkovich</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. I have some information about the El </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Chapo</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> drug ring in Mexico.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please hold.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is Agent Barber.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“My name is Mickey </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Milkovich</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I..uh</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> I’m wanted by the police in Chicago. I escaped prison.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mm. Okay, Mr. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Milkovich</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. Why are you calling the DEA?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I... I've been working for the El </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Chapo</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> ring down in Mexico.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And I want to make a deal. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but my...partner, Ian Gallagher is down here with me. He’s in trouble back home and I want his name cleared. No charges. All he did was come with me. He hasn’t committed any real crime.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, let's see what you can give us and then we will talk.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No. I’m not saying anything until I know for sure Ian is safe.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fine. Now tell me how to get a hold of you and exactly who you are working for.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was almost 2 months ago. Almost right after he had gotten that beating. Every day he checks in with the DEA. All the while still doing his runs and working under the most violent and disgusting people he had ever known in his life. Mickey may be an asshole, a thug, but he's never murdered anyone and he’d never hurt a woman. He didn’t hate women just because he was gay. There are things you just don’t do. He’s seen women raped, burned alive. He’s seen men's throats cut. Tortured beyond recognition. He has been spared somewhat of having to do anything too violent, but these last few months, since his fuck up, they’ve made him do some of the torturing. But minor stuff, if you can even call it that. Cut off a finger here. Slice a few cuts in the chest there. And brutal beatings. Nothing he hadn't done in the </span>
  <span>southside</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Between the stress of the check-ins; giving names of the people he works for, detailed accounts of the runs and drugs, names of victims and acts against them; and doing the crimes himself, he hasn’t had much time for Ian. He can't touch him. He can barely look at him. He’s lied to him so much over the past few months, he's afraid if he's alone with him too long everything will just spill out of him and it can't. He can't know what's happening because if one thing goes wrong. Just one thing, they both could end up dead. Because Ian would do anything, especially something stupid, to try and save him. And that just can't happen.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So no, he hadn't been home. He hadn't been touching him, kissing him, fucking him. And as much as he sees the pain in Ian’s eyes every single day, he will never know how much this hurts Mickey 100 times more. But only a little while longer, days probably, and it will all be over. He isn't sure how it's all going to go down. He isn't sure if he's going to be on a run when it happens; leaving Ian alone and not knowing where he is or what happened to him. Maybe it's better that way. Maybe he will get killed during the raid and arrest. A causality of war. Maybe that’s better too. The DEA will eventually find Ian, explain. It will kill him. Mickey knows that, but Ian will have a life. He will go on. He will be the man Mickey knows he is. And he will be free. Free from running. Free from Mickeys bullshit once and for all. He never should have asked to Ian to come. But the first few months together here were paradise and Mickey is glad he got to be with Ian again. He will go to his grave with those moments deep inside him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey finally stands, deciding it's now or never. He should take in Ian’s face, the feeling of being in the same room as him for as long as he can. He opens the door slowly and as quietly as he can but Ian is wide awake, sitting up in their bed, a cigarette between his fingers. He doesn't look at Mickey. He just keeps smoking and Mickey is stuck where he is in the doorway. Like his boots are superglued to the floor. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ian...” Mickey whispers.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I loved you so much. I love you so much.” Ian’s crying. All Mickey can do is close his own eyes to keep himself from doing the same. It doesn’t work. “I would have done anything for you. I had you back. After all I did, I had you back. You came back to me. And for what? For you to just...leave me like this?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'm right here.” Mickey protests.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you’re not. You're long gone from me. Are you punishing me? Is this some kind of revenge for what happened? For me hurting you like I did?” Ian asks, finally looking up into Mickeys face. He’s broken. Mickey can see it. Ian is forever broken.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I’m not...fuck, Ian. That’s not what this is. I can't...I can't explain it to you without...Christ.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it's time for me to go home.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ian, no. I... fuck...you just need to give me some time.” Mickey pleads. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I don’t have any more time to give you. You made your choice, Mick. You chose to lie and keep things from me. And I love you, fuck I love you so fucking much. But if I stay here any longer with the way things are, I won't survive. I’ll get sick again. And I’m not trying to hurt you. But I can't put you through that again. Or me.” Mickey finally closes the motel room door and moves closer to the man he loves, the only man he's ever loved and kneels down next to the bed, in between Ian’s feet dangling off the edge of it. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you.” Mickey whispers. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. But fucked for life, right? Isn't that what you always used to say? Maybe that’s us. Maybe we aren't supposed to have this. Maybe we are just...toxic to each other. Look what we’ve done to each other.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey can only nod. He’s not wrong. Maybe this was the best way. Maybe Ian can go home and the DEA will keep their word, no Mickey will make sure, and Mickey will follow out his roll on the cartel and they can both move on the way it should have been before Mickey fucked this all up. Mickey behind bars, and Ian moving on with his life. Living the life he should have had. Without him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Ian.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's the last words Mickey says to him before the door is kicked down and he's pulled away from the bed and slammed to the floor, DEA agents yelling and cuffing him as he gives Ian pleading looks of apologies and fear. Ian doesn’t see Mickey’s mouth as he's also pulled off the bed and cuffed. Mickey’s mouth silently telling him that he loves him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span>This story's old but it goes on and on until we disappear</span>
    </em>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span>Chicago: 9 months after Mickey’s escape</span>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian paces the room, worrying a hole in his bottom lip that is now swollen and bleeding. They had taken the cuffs off as soon as they threw him in this room and his wrists still hurt from the 2-day long trip it took to get him back to Chicago.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn't seen Mickey since the motel room. When DEA agents burst in in the middle of the night, guns out pulling them aggressively from their bed. Ian can still hear himself screaming mickeys name in his head as they forced him down to the carpet, arms too tightly cuffed behind his back. He closes his eyes and remembers mickeys pleading looks. Looks that told him to please calm down. Looks of apologies that this happened. Looks of fear. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their bubble had been broken. Ian knew it couldn't last forever, but these cops weren't border patrol. Or even detectives. Or FBI. These were narcotics agents. And Ian knew there was way more to this than he thinks. There always is when it comes to Mickey. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door finally opens and a smiling middle aged plain looking woman in a business suits waltz's in and shuts the door behind her. "Mr. Gallagher. So happy to finally put a face to the name."</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Where's Mickey? I want to see him."</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The agent just shakes her head and smiles more. "I must say I've seen plenty of things happen in this world in the name of love, but this one might take the cake. At least in my opinion."</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't know anything about us." Ian grits out through clenched teeth. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No?" The agent sits, crossing her legs, opening a thick file. "Let's see...oh yes. </span>
  <span>Mikhailo</span>
  
  <span>Aleksandr</span>
  
  <span>Milkovich</span>
  
  <span>and Ian Clayton Gallagher. Typical </span>
  <span>southside</span>
  <span> youth. Both with toxic families. Mickey, 2 bouts in juvie. Long rap sheet of misdemeanors. Ian, stole your bothers identity, joined the army underage, stole a helicopter, went AWOL. Then stole a child…. oh look Mr. </span>
  <span>Milkovich’s</span>
  <span> from a marriage to a Russian prostitute. Diagnosed bipolar. Spent some time in a psychiatric hospital. Mr. </span>
  <span>Milkovich</span>
  <span> is convicted of attempted murder, gets 15 years. You, Ian seem to turn your life around. Became an EMT, but all the while visited Mr. </span>
  <span>Milkovich</span>
  <span> in prison...hmmm...8 times over the course of 2 years. Never seeming to be able to let go of the one that got away." She smirks at Ian and he glares at her. "Then Mr. </span>
  <span>Milkovich</span>
  <span> escapes, contacts you and you two sail off into the sunset over the Mexican border where Mr. </span>
  <span>Milkovich</span>
  <span> starts working for the El </span>
  <span>Chapo</span>
  <span> cartel. But he messes up. Makes a mistake. Gets himself into some deep shit, pardon my French. Which means his boyfriend, oh that's you, aren't safe anymore. So, what does he do? He rolls. He makes a deal. And the one stipulation? You Mr. Gallagher, get off scot free." She closes the file. "I get all that correct?"</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He...no. Mickey…" Ian doesn't understand. It was just a local drug ring...no... fuck. It all makes so much sense now. The long nights. The bruises. That last beating. That wasn't normal. Why didn't he see it sooner? This is all his fault. All so Mickey could get his meds. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How long?" Ian whispers, finally sitting across from her. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For Mickey? Hard to say. Not my call, really. But you Ian, are free to go. Free to get your life back. Move on from all this." She stands and Ian looks up at her and finally smiles for the first time in days. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You honestly think that's what I'm going to do? I told you. You don't know anything about us." </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, I guess you're right. Just don't let him escape again. Frankly, all this was exhausting." She opens the door and motions for Ian to follow her. "Come on. You just </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> sign a few forms."</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How long until I can see Mickey?"</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She just rolls her eyes. "Jeez, kid. Dog with a bone. Give him a few days for processing. Then you can be reunited." She pauses, eyeing him. "Was all this worth it? Honestly?"</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian grins. "Absolutely." </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span> <br/></span>
  <span> <br/></span>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span>Calm me and let me taste the salt you breathed while you were underneath</span>
    </em>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span>Chicago: 2 days after Mickey’s arrest</span>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sunlight hits Ian’s eyes and he blinks rapidly as he exits the precinct. He’s free. But he doesn’t feel free. He feels hollow. Empty. Alone. But he knows he's not...at least physically. He sees his family at the bottom of the stairs. He sees Fiona with her worried eyes but fake smile. He sees Debbie with her vibrant smile because he knows she's just so happy to see him. He sees Lip; that smirk plastered across his face in disbelief and wonder. Ian can just hear him thinking ‘I can't believe you did this’. And he sees Mandy; a tiny bump protruding from under her tight t-shirt. What the hell is she doing here</span>
  <span>? </span>
  <span>His eyes fall to her hand intertwined with Lips and Ian can't help but smile. At least something good came of all this.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s embraced one by one by each of his family, then all together in one big mashup of arms and faces. It feels good, he won't deny that. But his bones ache. His blood is cold. His heart is smashed into a million pieces inside his sternum. No amount of family love is going to heal that. They all murmur sighs of relief that he's okay, that he's free and not in any trouble. And Ian knows when he gets </span>
  <span>home</span>
  <span> he's going to have to answer a ton of questions and hear lecture after lecture, but for now, he's just sitting in the back of the car, his head leaning against Mandy’s shoulder, as they make their way home down the old familiar southside streets. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's quiet all the way home until right before they pull onto the Gallagher street. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Man, I </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> ask.” Lip finally breaks. “What the fuck is up with your hair?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The car erupts in laugher. And Ian smiles for the first time in months.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span>I spoke the words but never gave a thought to what they all could mean</span>
    </em>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span>Chicago: 6 days after Mickey’s arrest</span>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian knew this conversation was eventually going to happen. He just didn’t expect it to be at the kitchen table with every Gallagher staring at him. They were all there, even Liam, who really didn’t understand what had happened over the last 9 months. All he knew is that Ian was gone and now he's back. Fiona had helped him strip his hair back to its natural red color. He was in his old clothes that still filled the drawers of his old bedroom. He looked like his old self again and it seemed to be put his family at ease. But he knew he wasn’t the same. Not after he got a glimpse of what his life could be. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t mean the on the run from the cop's life. Or the having to live by another name. Or the living in a shitty motel room. He means his life with Mickey. Where they woke up every morning curled around each other. Seeing Mickey smile. A life where they were really free with one another. It changed him. He knows his family expects him to tell them how he regrets running away. That Mexico was a disaster. That Mickey was and will always be a mistake. But none of its true. It’s the exact opposite. And he's ready for the backlash. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you all have lots to say. But honestly I don’t want to hear it.” Ian finally states as the eyes around the table go from shocked, to disappointed to angry in some cases. Fiona looks so angry. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ian, do you have any idea what you put us through? "Fiona asks. Ian just huffs out a laugh. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fi, don’t even start. You have put us through way fucking worse. Don’t make me bring up all the fucking mistakes you’ve made. And before you even open your mouth Lip, don’t make me list yours either.” He watches Mandy’s face drop. “Except you, </span>
  <span>Mands</span>
  <span>. This might be the smartest thing he's ever done.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ian, you helped Mickey escape. You were using false ID’s. You were involved in a God Damn cartel in Mexico!” Fiona yells.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First of all, I didn’t help Mickey escape. I just went with him. And second of all, I wasn’t involved in the cartel. Just Mickey was.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That's supposed to make me feel better!?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care what you think. What any of you think. I’m sorry I worried you guys. I'm sorry I took off and didn’t tell any of you. But if you're expecting some long apology and confession of guilt or regret, you're not going to get it. I don’t regret anything. I love Mickey. I've always loved Mickey. And I don’t care if you don’t like him. I don’t care that he tried to kill </span>
  <span>Sammi</span>
  <span>. I don’t care he escaped prison. I don't care that he was working for the cartel. And I don’t care that we both got caught. Because none of that shit matters. What matters is that Mickey took care of me. He got me my meds and in order to do that he had to get involved in shit he didn’t want to be in. Trust me. But it's all he knows-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because it's all he's ever going to be, Ian. You deserve better than that!” Fiona’s eyes are filled with tears. She's angry. Hurt. Confused. They all are. They don’t understand. But they don’t need to. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it's not. Mickey is more than the </span>
  <span>southside</span>
  <span>. He’s more than what he grew up in. What he knows. He can be more. And he will be. All the trouble he's ever gotten into is because of me. 2 stints in juvie. Me. Prison. Me. The cartel. Me. And through all that, even with all that, he just wanted to be with me. How could I not give him that? How can I turn my back on him now? Mickey loves me. Mickey </span>
  <span>Milkovich</span>
  <span> loves me. That shit talking, bitch slapping, south side trash, loves me. And I turned my back on him so many times. I’m not doing it anymore. Not for anything or anyone. So, I don’t care what any of you think. I’m going to be with him. Whether its 5 days from now or 10 years from now. And if you can't accept that then I’ll move out. If you can't accept him, us, then that your choice. Just like this is mine.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lip smirks and looks at Mandy, the mother of his child, and she's smiling. She gets it. Lip does too in his own way. Liam looks </span>
  <span>unphased</span>
  <span> and even Debbie is smiling. But Fiona hasn’t cracked. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can't allow him in this house after what he's done. You don’t see it Ian, because you're dazed by love. And who knows what your mental health has been these past 9 months. I can't accept it. I won't. You’re not thinking straight and I can't allow you to-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Allow me? Fiona, when are you </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> get it? I’m an adult. I don’t need you to fucking take care of me anymore. Go live your own damn life. You have no say in who I love or who I decide to live my life with. Fuck knows you never let us have a say in the parade of men you had come through your life. What the fuck makes you think you have any right to decide for me? You don’t. So fine, you don’t like it? Then I’ll go. Because I will be seeing Mickey. He will be in my life. Forever.” Ian stands, the chair scraping across the kitchen floor. “I love you all. So much. But I don’t give one flying fuck what any of you think.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian is half way up the stairs when he hears Lip call his name. He turns and stands at the bottom of the stair case, looking at his brother. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When can you go see Mickey?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian smiles. “Tomorrow. I’ve been in contact with that DEA agent. Apparently, she's very team Ian and Mickey.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take you.” Lip assures him. “As long as you come to the doctor with me and Mandy tomorrow. We’re </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> see the little alien growing in her uterus.” Mandy just rolls her eyes but smiles at Lip then at Ian, nodding. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it.” Ian’s eyes flick to Fiona who still looks...lost. She's been lost for a while. But just like Ian had to figure stuff out on his own, Fiona’s got to figure her shit out too. “You won't win this one, Fi. So, you can accept it, or fight it, but you won't win.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian is up the stairs again before his sister can push back with yet another argument.</span>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span>I am the one who haunts your dreams of mountains sunk below the sea</span>
    </em>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span>Chicago: 7 days after Mickey’s arrest</span>
  </b>
  <span> <br/></span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian waits, shivering in his plastic chair in nerves and anticipation. He stares through the clear glass at the other inmates in deep conversations and he taps his foot on the concrete floor almost making himself nauseous from the leg bouncing. The sound of the metal door jolts him out of his nerves and he sees the blonde hair first with black roots peeking out. Their eyes meet across the distance and all of the nervousness and fear that had been dwelling in Ian’s chest disappears. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey sits across from him and Ian’s hands itch to touch him. The glass taunts him and Ian gives mickey his best forced smile. Mickey picks up the receiver and Ian mirrors his action. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey, Gallagher." Mickey says softly. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mickey…what the fuck?"</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I couldn't tell you. I'm sorry, man. It wasn't safe and it was the only way…"</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No. We could have figured this out. You and me. You should have come to me. You were so distant. I thought...I thought you were having second thoughts. That being with </span>
  <span>me..wasn't</span>
  <span> what you wanted anymore.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey just snorts. “Fuck, Ian. You really thought that?” He gives Ian such an intense stare, it causes him to shiver. “You’re under my skin man, the fuck can I do? </span>
  <span>Hm</span>
  <span>? What can I do?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I accused you of cheating on me.” Ian whispers, ashamed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey just rolls his eyes. “Forget it, Gallagher. I get it. I would have thought the same thing.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian shakes his head. “Mick, what happened?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey shrugs. “I was just trying to make sure I was taking care of you. Getting your meds. It was the only way. And then...I fucked up and I was in too deep. And I saw what it was doing to us, to you. And I had to do something. I knew it was just a matter of time before we were caught anyway. The cartel...” He breathes out a shuddered breath. “They figured out who I was. Who you were. So, I made a deal. Rolled. To keep you from being locked up.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span> “It's not fair that you're in here. I should be too." Ian pleads. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey shakes his head. "You don't belong in here, Gallagher."</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I want to be where you are, Mickey!"</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey frowns at the outburst and sighs heavily. "You don't get to be. Go be an uncle to Lips kid. Be an uncle for me too." Mickey smirks. "I'll be out soon."</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll wait for you."</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey shakes his head, looking down. "Don't make promises. Who knows how long…"?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey!" Ian reprimands. Mickey looks up at him. "No regrets, remember? I chose to come with you. And I'd choose it again. Over and over. What we had for those 9 months was paradise. Yeah, there were a few bumps in the road.” Mickey snorts. “But it was me and you. It was freedom, Mick. So fine you're locked up again. Who cares? I'm </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> fucking wait. Because what you and I have makes us free."</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span> Mickeys eyes widen at his words being spoken back to him. But then he looks...sad. "I broke my promise." </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian just smiles gently. "You stretched the truth, yes. And yeah, I was out of my mind with worrying for a little while. But you got me my meds. You protected me. You took care of me. And you loved me. Really loved me. You showed me every day. And that's all I ever wanted from you. All I wanted for us. We're really free now. Prison or no prison. It's us. And that's a promise you never broke. Not once. For all these years." Ian presses his hand to the glass, a throwback to another time he did it the last time he saw the man he loved behind glass. Before he knew it was love. Before he knew what kind of man Mickey would become. But unlike last time, Mickey mirrors his action and presses his hand against the glass too. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I love you." Ian says confidently. He does his best to hold back his tears. Mickey doesn't. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know. Love you too." Mickey doesn't whisper it. He says it firm because there's nothing left to be afraid of. They have this. They have what they mean to each other. </span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I know this is what you want</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic is now complete. Thank you to everyone who read and commented on this fic. It means so much to me.</p>
<p>Hope you enjoy the last part. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chicago: 8 months after Mickey’s arrest</strong>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian shoves his socked foot into his boot and </span>
  <span>ties the laces tight. </span>
  <span>He yawns as he rights himself sitting on the edge of his childhood twin size bed and sighs heavily. He only got 3 hours of sleep. He worked a double shift from 3pm to 7am at the hospital and when his phone started blaring at 11, it took every fiber of strength in his body to force himself out of bed. But its visiting day. </span>
  <span>Mickey day. He smirks to himself knowing he will see him in 3 short hours. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian goes every Thursday. He hasn’t missed one week. Even when he had the flu and it felt like he might die right there in that uncomfortable plastic chair across from the love of his life. Mickey gave him a rash and a shit about it. Going on and on about how if Ian missed one week, Mickey wouldn’t think that Ian was in any way breaking his promise. But what Mickey didn’t realize is that it had nothing to do with Ian’s promise. Ian just couldn’t go a week without seeing him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As months went on after Mickeys arrest, Mickey finally got face to face visitation. So now when its nice out, they sit in the yard and talk the full hour of visitation time. They hold hands. They hug. And kiss softly but quickly goodbye. Mickey isn’t afraid of anyone knowing he’s gay and has a ginger boyfriend on the outside; Mickey is long past being afraid of that </span>
  <span>kinda</span>
  <span> bullshit. But there were rules and Mickey is on his best behavior; as much as a </span>
  <span>Milkovich</span>
  <span> can be considering his roots. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey got 5 years. Parole at 3 with good behavior. They hadn’t even gotten to the one-year mark yet. And it was taking a toll on both of them. Ian doesn’t regret the lack of sleep. Or the extra shifts so he can save money for his own place; their own place. None of that matters. And yeah, Mickey fucking hates prison. Who doesn’t? The food, the asshole guards and other inmates. The shit work detail. But that wasn’t the real problem either. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They just fucking missed each other. That was the problem. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fiona still doesn’t get it. She gives Ian the same disapproving and worried look every time he leaves on Thursdays. Lip and Mandy have been supportive, as much as they can with the new baby. Her name is </span>
  <span>Miana</span>
  <span>, Mia for short. She’s got Lips dirty blonde hair but those </span>
  <span>Milkovich</span>
  <span> blue eyes and fuck if she isn’t gorgeous. Mickey cried the first time he saw her. They had all taken the 2 hour ride up there, when Mia was still sleeping 20 hours a day. Mickey held her and when her eyes opened, staring up into mirrored orbs, Mickey fucking lost it. But he’d never admit it. But his secret is safe with them. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So yeah, its been tough.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian yawns again as he shuffles down the stairs to the living room, his steps hard on the carpeted stairs.  He can hear </span>
  <span>Miana</span>
  <span> cooing somewhere in the living room and the TV on Sesame Street playing on a low volume. He rounds the staircase and finds Mandy passed out on the couch with the bassinet in front blocking the TV. Ian smiles gently and looks down at </span>
  <span>Miana</span>
  <span> when he gets to her and she blows bubbles with her </span>
  <span>drooly</span>
  <span> lips up at him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey beautiful. Wore Mommy out, huh?” He whispers. She waves her hands around in </span>
  <span>uncoordinated</span>
  <span> baby fashion. Ian laughs. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s a monster all night, and so damn happy during the day. She’s killing us, man.” Lip’s voice breaks Ian out of his loving stare down at his niece.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Don't</span>
  <span> call her a monster. She’s perfect.” Ian says in a sing song voice. Lip just rolls his eyes. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yea, okay. You get up with her 4 times a night then. We’re fucking exhausted.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should have worn a rubber.” Ian pats his brothers shoulder as he passes him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good thing you and Mickey don’t need to worry about that shit.” Lip mumbles, grabbing a coffee cup from the cabinet next to Ian’s head in the kitchen. He hands it to Ian and then grabs another for himself. They pour their coffee in silence and take sips as they stare at each other. Its not like they don’t talk about Mickey. They do. He’s a part of their lives even though he’s not physically here on the day to day. Lip accepts that Mickey is it for his brother, and Ian never thought that would happen. He knows Mandy has something to do with it. But he’s grateful. Everyday. For so many things. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Mickey would have pushed out like 100 kids by now if we did.” Ian smirks at his brother over the top of his mug. Lip grimaces. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still </span>
  <span>can't</span>
  <span> believe shit talking, bitch slapping, south side trash, Mickey Milkovich, takes it up the ass.” Lip shudders. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like a champ.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both laugh together and Ian takes a final sip of his black coffee and sets the mug in the sink. “I </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> get going. Long fucking ride up to state.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Lip responds. “We would come but...” He waves toward the sleeping form on the couch. “If I wake Mandy up, I feel like she actually might kill me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Talk about bitch slapping.” Ian jokes and Lip pushes him and Ian staggers back into the living room. He grabs his jacket hanging over the side of the couch where he threw it this morning. He yawns, one more time when there is a soft knock at the door. He turns to look at Lip and he just shrugs. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Girl Scouts?” Lip asks. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In this neighborhood?” Ian rolls his eyes and pulls open the front door. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A whoosh of air invades his lungs and Ian feels like the floor has been pulled out from underneath him by some kind of earthquake and its opening up beneath him as he’s falling. He grabs onto the door to support himself and he has to be dreaming right? Is he having a hallucination? Did he take his pills yesterday? Today? He can't remember. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once his vision is no longer blurry and he can focus his eyes and even out his breathing, there is no more hesitation. No doubt left. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss me?” Mickey asks in an almost whisper.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Chicago: 1 day since Mickey’s release</strong>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey is exhausted and his body is so sore he can barely move. His ass is on fire and so stretched he almost feels dirty. He feels like one of those porn stars in those </span>
  <span>redtube</span>
  <span> videos where they had just been gang banged by 10 guys and they were a cum filled gaping hole mess. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because that’s what he is. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Ian is inside him again. It’s almost painful but he’s harder than a jackhammer and so is Ian as he pushes into him for the like the 8</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span> time in 24 hours. He had barely had a chance to breathe; to really take in the fact that he was home and free. He got to hold </span>
  <span>Miana</span>
  <span> for all of 10 minutes before Ian took him upstairs and hasn’t let them leave since. The room reeks of sex and cum and sweat and Mickey is filthy. He’s sticky and flaky and he can smell his own BO and Ian’s all over himself and the sheets. The ceiling fan is barely doing anything to relieve the thickness in the room. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Mickey has never been so happy in his entire life. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian is pushing inside him, his chest draped across his back as they lay on their sides because Mickey had fallen asleep for a while after the last time they fucked, just literally too exhausted to think or speak. And he had been awakened, yet again, by Ian’s incredibly large and hard dick in his ass. He </span>
  <span>hadn't</span>
  <span> move from the spot he fell asleep in and Ian just slid right back into him, because like he said, he’s open and wet from almost 24 hours of </span>
  <span>nonstop</span>
  <span> fucking. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some of it had been animalistic. They fucked like it was their last few hours on earth. Some of it had been so tender, so slow, Mickey actually cried like a little bitch. They must have said I love you to each other 100 times in those hours. There were groans and grunts and screams and sighs and if Mickey wasn’t so damn happy to be home maybe he would feel a little guilty that he </span>
  <span>hadn't</span>
  <span> spent any time with his sister or the rest of the Gallagher’s. He was in their house after all. And he knows Carl still sleeps in this room and the door had been locked all day and night. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian’s stuttered breaths against Mickey’s neck are a sure sign that Ian is close to coming. Mickey pushes his ass back into Ian's and he lets out a </span>
  <span>guttural</span>
  <span> moan and grabs Mickey loosely around the throat. And Mickey comes instantly. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's</span>
  <span> almost </span>
  <span>embarrassing</span>
  <span> but when Ian realizes that tiny gesture made Mickey blow his </span>
  <span>load,</span>
  <span> he’s right behind him in his orgasm, filling him up yet again. If Ian wasn’t so big Mickey knows he would barely feel it because he cannot even imagine how much cum he has pushed up his ass at this point. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Disgusting. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so fucking hot. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian kisses down his neck, rubbing his big hands up and down his chest soothingly. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gallagher...I need food. And beer. And a shower. With a curtain. And I need to pee. I’m surprised I didn’t just pee all over your bed with that last cum shot.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh. Fine.” Ian rolls over onto his back, pulling out of Mickey and holy fuck they need to clean these sheets. Mickey doesn’t even want to think about what his ass looks like. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fucking broken.” Mickey groans. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.” Ian presses one more kiss against his forehead and pulls himself out of bed, hopping over Mickey’s listless body. He looks down at him and offers his hand. “Come on. Up and at </span>
  <span>em,</span>
  <span> you baby.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> fucking kill you.” Mickey growls and allows himself to pulled into a upright position. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god would you quit your bitching?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why should I?” Mickey rubs the back of his greasy hair as Ian kneels down in front of him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you not happy? Like...” Ian’s eyes look worried and Mickey suddenly realizes that as much as Mickey is out of his element here; not knowing where he fits in anymore, if he even has a home here; Ian is feeling the exact same thing. They had been wrapped up in this sex bubble the last 24 hours but </span>
  <span>it's</span>
  <span> time for the real world now and Mickey </span>
  <span>isn't</span>
  <span> sure how he is even supposed to act.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But neither does Ian. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gallagher...” Mickey sighs and reaches out to rub the back of his head. “Yes. I’m happy. Do you honestly think that being fucking locked up in there without you...without being able </span>
  <span>to...”</span>
  <span> He rubs Ian’s neck to emphasize his point. “is better than being here with you?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian swallows. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, Ian. I’m happy. I’m just trying to get my head on straight here. Like what are we doing? A 24 hour sex fest is great and all but I </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> check in with my PO. I </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> get a job. You </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> go to work eventually. And...what? I’m just </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> stay here? Live here? With everyone else in this house? I mean, I’m not Fiona’s favorite person and-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have money.” Ian blurts out. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been saving. A lot. Barely chipping into </span>
  <span>squirrel</span>
  <span> fun here. Probably another reason why Fiona’s so pissed. Been working doubles, Christ, even sometimes triples. I’ve been looking at apartments. I have enough for a security department. I was going to be moving out soon anyway. I wanted to get my own place. Our own place and make it perfect. So you had a home to come out to. Our home. And I was </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> get us a new bed and furniture. And...pots and pans. And I was </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> cook for you and -”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ian. Breathe man. Fuck.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian shuts up and looks at his boyfriend. Then bursts out laughing. “Sorry.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. One thing at a time, okay? I need to pee. I need to shower. I need food. I need to see my PO. I need to see my sister and my niece. Give us a few days to just...settle. And then we go talk about what you saved. See what kind of job I get. We will figure it out.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you want that? You want to like live with me. Just us?” Ian’s looking down at Mickey’s lap. His chin is brought up with Mickey’s index finger so he can look into his eyes. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We did it before right? This time we wont be running. This time...we can really be free.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian leans in and kisses him. Closed mouthed and hard. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, Okay. I’m literally going to piss all over you if I don’t get out of this room.” Mickey pushes Ian back on his heels and stands. Ian’s eyes go wide as Mickey’s dick stands half at attention in front of his face. “</span>
  <span>Don't</span>
  <span> even think about it man, unless you want piss down your throat.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’d be something new.” Ian </span>
  <span>quirks</span>
  <span> an eyebrow.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, no. Not ever.” Mickey pushes Ian again until he lands on his ass on the grungy carpet. Ian’s laughter follows Mickey out of the room on his way to bathroom as he practically runs. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>2 days after Mickey’s release: </strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fiona hasn’t uttered one word to Mickey since he’s been in the Gallagher house. Debbie and Carl hugged and talked his ear off for more than an hour and to be quite frank, Mickey enjoyed it. It felt good to sit on a couch again, in his own clothes having normal conversation with people he cares about. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And who care about him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone except Fiona. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey gets it. She’s only looking out for Ian. He knows that when Ian took off with him to Mexico it was reckless and crazy and he put the whole family through the ringer. And everyone has seemed to forgive and forget and even understand. Everyone but Fiona. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian has been trying to do damage control. Bringing Mickey into conversations like he </span>
  <span>isn't</span>
  <span> capable of doing it himself. 5 years ago it would have pissed Mickey off. Now he knows better. Now he knows Ian is just trying to take care of him. And he’s allowing it. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the end of Mickey’s second day of real freedom and he’s in the kitchen at 3AM smoking a cigarette when Fiona stumbles down the stairs half asleep. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Sorry.” She mumbles and goes to the fridge taking the orange juice container out. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? Its your house.” Mickey spits back. Okay so maybe he’s a little annoyed at how childish Fiona seems to be acting. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it? Doesn’t feel like it anymore. Its been invaded.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey takes a long hit of his cigarette and lets the smoke exhale through his nose and teeth before responding. If it had been years ago he would have pushed back almost immediately but he’s not that same person anymore. He’s trying not to be at least. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you don’t like me. I get it. You think I’m bad for Ian. Bad influence. That I’m not good enough for him. And you know what, you’re fucking right. I’m not.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad we can agree on that.” Fiona practically growls at him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We do. And even though all those things are true, the other thing that’s true is I love him. Do you hear me? I love him. I’ve loved him since I was fucking 17 years old. When I didn’t even know it was love. Because I had no idea what the fuck love was. And yeah, I’ve fucked up. So many fucking times. I’ve done bad shit. Stupid shit. And maybe I’ve brought Ian into my bad stupid shit, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love him. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to take care of him. It doesn’t mean I won’t. Mexico was a shit show. I never should have asked him to go. You’re right to be pissed about that. But I took care of him down there. I got him his meds. And when I couldn’t anymore, I made sure he made it home safely so he could. I got myself thrown back in jail just so he was safe. So be pissed, I don’t </span>
  <span>fucking</span>
  <span> care. But I love him. And </span>
  <span>isn't</span>
  <span> that enough? Cant it just be fucking enough?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fiona is quiet for a while in the darkness of the kitchen. Mickey lights another cigarette in that time, letting her have her moment. Letting her dwell in what he said. She finally sighs, putting the orange juice back in fridge. She walks over to him and looks down at him sitting her in her kitchen chair, in her house, like he’s an intruder. He knows he is. She takes the cigarette out of his hand and inhales deeply before slowly giving it back to him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blows the smoke right down into his face. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You hurt him and I will fucking murder you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey raises an eye brow at her. “And I’d fucking let you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>3 weeks after Mickey’s release: </strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one is nicer than the last.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey gives Ian his signature ‘what the fuck’ look and stares down into the dirty rust filled tub. “That’s not saying much, man.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Mick. This is like the 8</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span> one we’ve looked at in our price range.” Ian leans against the sink that looks like its about to fall off the fucking wall. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, Gallagher but...” Mickey sighs and sits on the toilet. Fuck even that’s </span>
  <span>wobblily</span>
  <span>. “Okay the one by the </span>
  <span>Kash</span>
  <span> and Grab wasn’t so bad. Close to the L and shit.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Ian’s eyes almost sparkle. This fucking guy. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Its better than trying to bang all quietly with your fucking family all over the damn house.” Mickey needs a cigarette bad. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just want something of our own. I know these </span>
  <span>aren't</span>
  <span> great but </span>
  <span>it's</span>
  <span> not forever. We can move into something nicer once we get better jobs.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey snorts. “You’re job is fine. Mine is the one that sucks. Fucking mall security like some bitch.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian pushes away from the sink and it creeks against the wall. That thing is </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> come tumbling down any second. He kneels on the floor between Mickey’s legs. “</span>
  <span>That's</span>
  <span> not forever either. Its just for right now. You can do anything you want now, Mick. You could be a mechanic. Or a tattoo artist.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck are you talking about, Gallagher.” Mickey rolls his eyes, shoving Ian back a little. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you like to draw. I’ve seen it. And you’re good. Really good, Mick. And I’m not saying you have to. I’m just saying you have options.” Ian rubs his hands up and down Mickey’s jeaned legs. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay tough guy. Stop with the pep talk.” Mickey gives his boyfriend a small smirk. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So the one by the </span>
  <span>Kash</span>
  <span> and Grab?” Ian asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Mickey sighs. “Lets go tell this bitch we like that one.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>7 months after Mickey’s release: </strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey struggles with his key in the old rusty lock on the front door, cursing under his breath when it finally clicks open and he has to shoulder the door open. Even in this bad neighborhood someone would eventually give up trying to break into this apartment based on the fucking door alone. Pain in the fucking ass. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shoves the door closed, forcefully, and locks the handle, deadbolt and chain. Just in case. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He throws his keys onto the couch, cause who gives a fuck? Its almost 10pm and he’s been at the fucking mall since 11am and he’s just fucking annoyed and tired and well...horny. </span>
  <span>It's</span>
  <span> been almost 3 days since he’s even gotten a clumsy </span>
  <span>hand job</span>
  <span> from his boyfriend. Ian’s been pulling doubles since the one nurse has been on her honeymoon and its seriously been putting quite the damper on their sex life. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And its making Mickey quite grumpy.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian is most likely asleep. He had worked from 11pm last night until 3pm today and then had to go pick up </span>
  <span>Miana</span>
  <span> from daycare for Lip and Mandy because they were both at work and babysit her until Lip came home. He had texted Mickey around 7 when he finally got home. Just a simple ‘finally home. Exhausted' text but it still made Mickey relieved to know he was home and safe and finally able to get some rest. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey is as quiet as he can be, despite the door debacle, and opens a beer and downs half of it before finally taking a breath. He sits in the dark and quiet for a while, letting the work day rush out of him and taking in the knowledge he was home now and Ian was just a few feet away from him in their apartment. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It </span>
  <span>hadn't</span>
  <span> been easy. First few months were hard trying to figure out a budget for bills and shit. Mickey would have thought Ian would have been better at that, because Mickey sure as shit didn’t know how to do any of that crap. So it was tough for a while. But they figured it out. Like they always do. Some nights they had to eat ramen and drink cheap beer but they always have beer and they always have heat and that’s what matters.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And what really matters is that they are together. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey pushes the door to their bedroom open with his boot to find Ian sitting up in bed, naked, the thin sheet on their bed laying softly over his bottom half. He looks up from his book and smiles. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought I heard you come home.” He puts the book down on the bed and scoots himself to the edge of the bed. The sheet barely stays on his lap and Mickey eyes Ian’s long legs and just the glimpse of Ian’s large balls as they hang between his legs. He licks his lips involuntarily. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why </span>
  <span>aren't</span>
  <span> you asleep, man?” Mickey says trying not to stare as he kicks off his boots and removes his jacket. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian reaches for him and pulls him close by the top of his khaki’s. “Was waiting for you.” He untucks Mickey’s purple ‘old army’ shirt and latches his mouth onto the skin of Mickey’s stomach. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Christ.” Mickey murmurs his hands immediately going into Ian’s hair. He’s letting it grow out again at Mickey’s request and its fucking glorious. “You have to be exhausted man.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Took tomorrow off. Cause your off. </span>
  <span>So,</span>
  <span> we can get off. Many, many times.” Ian licks up his stomach to his chest and Mickey tugs Ian’s head back by his hair. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You took off for me?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Told them I wasn’t feeling well. Too many doubles. And the only cure is my boyfriends perfect tight ass.” Ian pops the button on Mickey’s khaki’s undone and gives him that bedroom smile. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that so?” Mickey leans down and slams his mouth against Ian’s and Ian moans as their tongues dual for dominance. Its all lips and saliva and Christ its so fucking good. “</span>
  <span>Lemme</span>
  <span> get my fucking clothes off man.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian leans back on his hands and smirks at him as Mickey removes his clothes. He may do it a bit slow; loving to watch as his boyfriends eyes darken with every new patch of skin that hits the air. When Mickey finally kicks his pants somewhere in the room, leaving him only in his white tube socks, Ian sits back up, growling and yanking Mickey forward by his hips. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come here.” Ian demands and flips Mickey down onto the mattress with that strong body and Mickey has missed it. Mickey may be dominant in their relationship; not taking any shit from anyone and taking care of Ian like he knows he’s supposed to. Not saying Ian is some girl or damsel in distress; Ian really doesn’t need someone to take care of him but Mickey knows after all these years Ian has become accustomed to Mickey </span>
  <span>kinda</span>
  <span> taking charge in that area. But in the bedroom, this is where Ian shines. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s bossy and aggressive and he gives Mickey exactly what he doesn’t get anywhere else in his life. The chance to let go and just feel. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian wastes no time and gets his mouth on Mickey’s dick in seconds. Its not slow. Its not seductive. There is no swirling of the tongue on the tip. There just heat and suction and Mickey practically bucks almost all the way off the bed at how Ian’s mouth is like a </span>
  <span>vacuum</span>
  <span> trying to suck his orgasm out of his body in seconds. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ian, fuck...slow down...I...FUCK.” Mickey grabs at Ian’s long locks and PULLS and Ian grunts and Mickey’s dick pops out of his mouth. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mickey. I need to taste you. You can cum again. Its been days. Just cum in my mouth, Mick. And then I’ll fuck you anyway you want. Slow, hard...</span>
  <span>doesn't</span>
  <span> matter. I just need to taste you.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And how the fuck is Mickey supposed to argue with that?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes Mickey less than a minute to flood Ian’s mouth and Ian groans and moans and licks his cock clean and looks up at him with hooded eyes like a satisfied cat or something. Mickey can barely catch his breath when Ian crawls up his body and kisses him; sharing Mickey’s orgasm with him. And Mickey could give two shits. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can feel Ian’s cock hard and leaking against his stomach and Mickey reaches down to rub his finger along his slit. “Fuck, </span>
  <span>you're</span>
  <span> wet.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian lets out an almost animalistic sound and ruts against Mickey’s body. “I need to be inside you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey opens his legs wider and ghosts his lips over his boyfriends. “Then get inside me, Ian.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey knows when he says Ian’s name like that; all throaty and whispery it does something to Ian that Mickey could never fully explain to another person. Not that he would. Because this Ian is only his. This Ian who is sweating and so turned on he can barely breathe. This Ian that only wants Mickey. Only needs to be inside him. Sometimes its hard to believe that he gets to be with Ian like this. That someone like Ian wants him of all people. That they somehow dodged all the shit the world has thrown at them and they survived it all. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian grabs the lube from under the pillow and slicks his dick up. He looks at Mickey with the question in his eyes. ‘Do you need prep?’</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey shakes his head and wraps his legs around Ian’s hips. Yeah, </span>
  <span>it'll</span>
  <span> be tight. Yeah, its </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> burn like a bitch. But right now Mickey doesn’t care. He just needs Ian. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian takes his time bottoming out; letting Mickey stretch around him. Mickey keeps his face buried in Ian’s neck the whole time just licking and sucking and biting as Ian pushes inside him. Ian lets out a shaking breath and clings to Mickey in a way that almost concerns him. But Mickey just runs his hands up and down Ian’s taught back and continues to kiss his neck over and over. Sometimes Ian gets like this when they fuck. When its been a few days and the world outside these four walls had kept them apart. When Ian just needs a reminder that this is it. They are together and sometimes jobs and families and daily </span>
  <span>responsibilities</span>
  <span> could keep them apart, but they always will have this. They will always have this connection. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey lets Ian have his moment and when Ian pulls out achingly slow and then slams back into the hilt, Mickey almost screams it hurts and feels so good all in the same breath. He stutters out a shaky breath and murmurs “Fuck me.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Ian does. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He bends Mickey in ways that he knows is going to make it hard to walk tomorrow but he doesn’t care. Because Ian is giving him exactly what he’s been craving for days. The ability to let go and just...let Ian have total control. Mickey doesn’t have to think. Mickey just gets to lay there and let Ian have his body and mind in every way. Ian knows Mickey’s body. His sounds. His expressions. He knows what Mickey needs even when he doesn’t. Its soul mate level shit if Mickey believed in any of that shit. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he does. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>All Mickey knows is that Ian fits into him; his life, his heart, his mind, his body; in ways that make no sense at all but total sense all at the same time. Its pure lunacy. But Mickey guesses he’s always liked a little crazy in his life. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>14 months after Mickey’s release: </strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we should get married.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey is barely in the booth at the diner before Ian spews the words out of his mouth. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey ends up tripping into the booth and having to swallow like 3 times before he can answer. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Is all that comes out. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should get married.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey eyes his boyfriend from across the </span>
  <span>syrup stained table and </span>
  <span>takes in the creased forehead and flush of skin of Ian’s neck</span>
  <span>. He’s nervous; electric over stimulated energy </span>
  <span>radiating off his skin. Its making Mickey </span>
  <span>anxious just </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is this coming from?” Mickey asks quietly. He’s pushing the utensils around the table, unable to look in Ian’s eyes. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Oh.” Ian whispers. Mickey finally looks up into his eyes. He looks…sad. “You</span>
  <span> don’t want to get married.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, man. I didn’t say that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, its okay. It’s a stupid idea. We don’t need to do that, right? Its just a piece of paper. What we have is good, right? Its good. Yeah.” H</span>
  <span>e’s rambling </span>
  <span>and Mickey’s skin is crawling to say something. Anything to ease the anxiety and sadness washing over the table. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ian…” Mickey tries to grab his boyfriends hand across the table but Ian gets up abruptly. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> get back to work. I’ll see you </span>
  <span>at home later, okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey doesn’t breathe, move or blink again until he hears the jingle of the door </span>
  <span>affirming Ian’s exit. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>14 months after Mickey’s release: </strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span> Mickey sips the </span>
  <span>whiskey</span>
  <span> from his glass and tries to remember to breathe. Every time the door to the bar swings open his head whips to see if its him. Ian didn’t seem too happy about having to meet Mickey at the Alibi after working 10 hours but after a heated text argument, he finally caved but Mickey knew he wasn’t going to be in the best mood once he finally gets there. Not after the shit storm that happened earlier at the diner. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey walked around </span>
  <span>almost all day replaying the few minutes between them over and over. Its not that he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to marry Ian. Of course he does. If he didn’t what was the point of all this? Years of hiding? Years of fear? Years of running? From yourself, from him. To him. </span>
  <span>Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wants to marry him. He was just caught off guard. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had never talked about it. Not once. Not in Mexico. And not since Mickey’s release. </span>
  <span>They were together. Coming home to each other every night. Waking up next to each other. Mickey honestly never </span>
  <span>thought he wanted more, needed more. At not once did he think Ian did either. But he realizes now, the hard way, there are so many things that go on in Ian’s mind that he doesn’t know. That he may never know. And it makes his chest ache that </span>
  <span>Ian didn’t trust him enough to have a conversation with him about what he wanted…</span>
  <span>what his future wanted to look like. And because of that distrust, Mickey was verbally and mentally </span>
  <span>assaulted by  anxiety ridden word vomit in the diner. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t react the way Ian wanted. </span>
  <span>Mickey didn’t react the way Mickey wanted. That last thing he wanted was to make Ian feel that he didn’t want a future with him. That he didn’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him. He does. He always has. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The </span>
  <span>door opens and Mickey sees the red hair before he sees anything else. Ian’s eyes meet his and they soften, slightly. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” Mickey turns on the stool as he approaches. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian just murmurs a ‘mmm’ and reaches for Mickey’s whiskey. </span>
  <span>He downs it in one gulp and sets the glass down on the bar, gently spinning it in his fingers. </span>
  <span>There’s so much tension between them and </span>
  <span>Mickey doesn’t know how to start to unravel all the things he needs to say to Ian.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, about today…” Mickey begins. Ian immediately shuts him down by raising his hand up and waving it around a few times. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>No. Seriously stop. Its fine. I shouldn’t have bombarded you like that. It was unfair. I used to do that shit to you all the time, years ago, and I swore </span>
  <span>I’d never do that shit to you again. </span>
  <span>So, I’m sorry.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. “I’m not mad. </span>
  <span>Yeah, I was a bit thrown off but…”</span>
  <span> Ian interrupts. Again. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t need to talk about this anymore. I’m really tired, Mick. I’m </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> go home. You stay here, drink, whatever. Its cool. I just need to</span>
  <span> go home.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s defeated. </span>
  <span>Mickey knows that. He wants to fix it, he has to. But Ian’s already half way to the door and he gets waves of panic as Ian walks away. Flashes of the past </span>
  <span>that left him pained and </span>
  <span>crumbling. He cant let Ian walk away again. Not like this. Not when Mickey can do something…something so simple. Because being with Ian has always been the </span>
  <span>simplest</span>
  <span>, easiest thing in his life. Even through all the pain and </span>
  <span>trauma. It’s the only thing </span>
  <span>he’s ever been sure of in his whole life. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And this </span>
  <span>is easy too. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>“IAN GALLAGHER!” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian stills with his hand pressed against the door. He straightens from </span>
  <span>his </span>
  <span>seconds before defeated demeanor and turns to look at Mickey with a curious but tired expression. Tired of staying still. Tired of not moving forward. Tired of </span>
  <span>all they had been through. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey</span>
  <span> look</span>
  <span>s</span>
  <span> around quickly to find the bar patrons staring at </span>
  <span>him</span>
  <span> from </span>
  <span>his</span>
  <span> sudden outburst. Kev and V look amused, as usual by </span>
  <span>him</span>
  <span>, behind the bar. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just want everyone here to know I </span>
  <span>wanna</span>
  <span> fucking marry Ian Gallagher. </span>
  <span>Big time.” Ian’s eyes widen and he takes a few small steps back into the bar. And then he smiles. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you fucking marry me?” He asks him, Mickey’s voice loud but gentle. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ian lets out a visible breath and uses his long legs to get Mickey in seconds grabbing his face in his large hands and kissing him with everything he has. Their tongues tangle and it may be a bit too pornographic for the Alibi but Mickey figures they’ve seen worse. There are whistles and cheers around them but neither of them care. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey</span>
  
  <span>pull</span>
  <span>s</span>
  <span> back and </span>
  <span>Ian</span>
  <span> presses his forehead to </span>
  <span>his</span>
  <span>, a wide grin on his lips. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That a yes?” Mickey whispers. Ian pulls back and </span>
  <span>gently caresses the side of his face with the softest expression. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess.” Ian shrugs and Mickey pinches his side </span>
  <span>and they double over with laughter, tickling and </span>
  <span>half hugging each other. Ian finally engulfs</span>
  <span> him in an all consuming hug and Mickey bu</span>
  <span>ries his face into his shoulder. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you. And I’m </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> make you so happy.” </span>
  <span>Ian rubs the back of </span>
  <span>Mickey’s head affectionately. Mickey just closes his eyes at the familiar weight of Ian’s arms and scent. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You already do.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>18 months after Mickey’s release: </strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, </span>
  <span>Mikhalio</span>
  <span>, take you Ian…”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Mexico: 4 days after Ian and Mickey get married:</strong>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ever think back in the day, this is where we would be?” Mickey asks, a beer cold and sweating in his palm. He digs his toes deep into the hot sand and side eyes his husband through his sunglasses. Ian’s head is leaning back against the beach chair, his face pink and freckles speckled from the </span>
  <span>aggressive sun. He smirks. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You and me, on a beach in Mexico after getting married?” </span>
  <span>Ian rolls his head and squints at Mickey through the suns ra</span>
  <span>ys. “I always dreamed.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you saying I made your dreams </span>
  <span>come true, Gallagher?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mickey is answered with a soft smile. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyday.”</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
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